


Try Again

by jessevon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessevon/pseuds/jessevon
Summary: An alcoholic lieutenant and a newcomer collide like storm waves against the rocks. Hank Anderson sees the newest addition to the task force as nothing more than a decorated metal can. Yet something about him is so... human.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Try Again

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

Hank stood suddenly from his seat with an expression stuck somewhere between disgusted and frustrated. Across from him sat Jeffrey Fowler, who rubbed his face into his hands at his desk to collect himself. He expected this kind of response from Hank. “Unfortunately, I am,” he said as he made eye contact again, “I don’t like putting this on you but-” 

“Then fucking don’t,” Hank interjected. He turned for the door but wasn’t able to make it far. A hand tightly gripped Hank’s shoulder, turning him around and firmly holding him in place. Fowler just gave an apologetic look for a time, eventually easing a breath from both of them. “Hank, if I could give this to anyone else, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” he muttered quietly, “You are the only field active officer with the necessary requirements.” 

Hank huffed at that last bit. “And you can’t bullshit those requirements for someone else?” He dropped his gaze when Fowler shook his head slowly. “I can’t bullshit over ten years of active duty,” he said, “And your accomplishments alone blow any other applicant out of the water.” 

Hank’s gaze stayed on the ground. Maybe he could avoid this issue by counting the number of square tiles in the room or if he waited long enough, he’d receive a call to postpone the inevitable. No such luck. “I’ll make it up to you,” Fowler promised as he gave Hank’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Hank forced himself to take a breath to regather himself. He managed to remeet Fowler’s eyes to ask, “When does it get here?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Hank nodded, “I’m taking a sick day tomorrow.”

Fowler frustratingly sighed, “Hank, you can’t ignore this.”

Hank jerked his shoulder out of Fowler’s grip and pushed the door to the office open with a rough shove. “I can and I will,” he called as he grabbed his jacket from his cubicle and headed for the door. It was only ten minutes until the end of his shift, anyway.

The next day, Hank kept his promise and took the day off. He spent most of the time at home, where he convinced himself that this wasn’t hiding, only a well earned day off. As the day grew colder and darker, he decided he’d had enough of the same walls and familiar tasting liquor. He threw on his coat and took a drive down to Jimmy’s to drink something that didn’t taste like monotony.

He didn’t remember the drive there too much. He already could drive to the bar with his eyes closed, but the previous drinks almost tested that promise. Hank found a seat against the bar and cast his eyes up. “Gears,” left him as he looked at the bar’s TV displaying the latest basketball game. A few other patrons nodded and mumbled in agreement. No one was really here for the game, but it was something to watch to track just how long you’ve been here.

Hank doesn’t remember when he started looking down, but he thinks it’s been a while now that he notices himself doing so. The ice in his drink was almost melted at this point and his hair had fallen in his face quite a bit. He didn’t care to push it back anymore. He just stayed quiet. Thinking. Thinking. Shit, overthinking. Why was he here? Why was he drinking something he didn’t order? How the fuck did he drive here when he couldn’t see straight? When did all of his hair turn grey? Where was-

“Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

Hank’s air caught in his throat as he froze. It found him. How?

“I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were. They said you were probably having a drink nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar.”

Awful tension hung between them. The bar attendees felt it too as they all stared at the newcomer. Hank desperately clung to reality as he choked out, “What do you want?”

“You were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide involving a Cyberlife android. In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.”

Its words were crisp. Perfect. Artificial. He hated it so much.

“Well, I don’t need any assistance,” he spoke a bit louder as he appreciated the drinks doing their job, “Especially not from a plastic asshole like you. So just be a good lil’ robot and get the fuck outta here.” 

He could see from the corner of his eye that the android didn’t move and sway as it stood there. Even when Hank was sober there was always that small human subconscious shifting of weight. Not it. It stood solid like it was welded to the damn flooring. 

“I understand that some people are not comfortable in the presence of androids but I am-”

“I am perfectly comfortable...” Hank sat up suddenly, finally giving in and looking over. He was almost proud that he didn’t react more than he did. The android’s face was definitely more realistic this close than he imagined, but he still was able to keep himself in check. “Now back off,” his voice was much more steady now, almost matching its tone, “before I crush you like an empty beer can.” He reached for another drink, praying for this interaction to be over. He wanted so badly to just go back to overthinking and staring at bottoms of glasses.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I must insist. My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

The next gulp of liquor went straight through Hank as a laugh left him, “You know where you can stick your instructions?”

It answered plainly, “No. Where?”

Hank set his glass down a bit too hard and shot a stern look at the android. He knew that androids answer things exactly, but he had expected a bit of leniency in the rule.

“Nevermind,” he muttered, staring back down at the bar top.

“You know what?” it tried again, “I’ll buy you one for the road. What do you say?”

What did he say? Fucking nothing. Hank was too busy thinking again. Partly to ignore the android to leave him alone. Partly because he had forgotten it was there.

“Bartender, the same again, please!”

The faintest hint of a smirk kicked up the corner of Hank’s mouth. Just a faint one.

“See that, Jim?” he mused as the bartender did what was asked, “Wonders of technology... Make it double.” Hank gathered himself a lot faster as alcohol was being poured for him and the android dug into his pocket to cover the cost. Hank didn’t expect it to pay with cash. Aren’t they supposed to be super advanced and leave paper money behind?

Hank was overthinking again until he realized his drink had finished pouring a bit ago. He picked it up and gave a quiet ‘cheers’ to the air in front of him, thinking of being with anyone else besides the present company. He threw his head back to take it all in one shot, knowing that the android’s eyes - or whatever - were still trained on him. The liquor went through him with a shiver and groan. Then a sigh left him as his eyes gently opened and he saw gentle swirls instead of reality. It almost comforted him. Quite a scary thought, yes, but he finally deemed this ‘himself’ enough to get to work.

“Did you say a homicide?”

Hank looked back over at the android, smiling and thinking the situation was humorous. What wasn’t humorous was the deadpan, calming look on the android’s face. It was blank. Nonhuman. But maybe that was a good thing since the thing looked so lifelike. There he fucking went. Overthinking. He should really keep count of how many times he did that.

Hank gently nodded to himself before pushing to stand. And the android followed right behind like an obedient dog. Even Sumo gave Hank his space when he needed it, but this thing, Connor... this thing was a whole other thing entirely. It was prim and proper, following a non-existent etiquette. Always so calm and put together. Taking input and spitting out preset answers. Connor was too much, and Hank had only known it for five minutes. 

Only one thing echoed in the slippery walls of Hank’s mind as they walked to his car, “I don’t know why, but this thing is going to kill me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first work on this site, and I'm very excited to share my efforts here! I would appreciate any support on this story and any future works of mine. This will be a long story so please enjoy it until its completion! I will try to update every week. 
> 
> Thank you very much and enjoy the read!


End file.
